


Something

by annalouise_vintage



Series: Love between pages [3]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Anxiety, Comfort, Depression, Domestic, F/F, Gay, Hurt/Comfort, LGBT, Lesbian, Mental Health Issues, Sapphic, fluffy(ish), mental health
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 14:03:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13572087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annalouise_vintage/pseuds/annalouise_vintage
Summary: I am terrible at finding titles for my works. I had saved this text under the name "something" and now I just adopted it.(I mean at least it´s authentic).





	Something

**Author's Note:**

> I have been diagnosed with anxiety/light depression myself and I do NOT want to romanticise anxiety or any other mental health issues!!

Harriet threw annother ball of paper on the ground. She couldn‘t concentrate and her head and legs were throbbing painfully but if she didn‘t finish that comment in time, it wouldn‘t get published so she had no choice.  
She felt awful and she knew she had to rest, things hadn‘t been feeling right for days now.

For as long as she can remember Harriet has - every now and then - bad days. Most of the time it‘s more than just one day, but on most of them it‘s not too terrible.  
Even though liguistic dictoranies fill her shelves, she never found a word for how she was feeling.  
It‘s not like she felt bad every day of her life, normally she was really positive and cheerful, just sometimes she was not.

On one occasion she had opened up about it to her sister, who - still on the same day - continued to tell their parents. Back then Harriet could only circumvent a reception order by telling her father, that her sister had just been telling lies.

After this incident she started to hide everything. Every feeling, every injury and -obviously- every relationship. She didn‘t want to be vulnerable.  
Over time Harriet became very good at it. When she sprained an ankle, she made sure to sit around most of the time and walk behind everyone so nobody would see her limping; bruises her father had inflicted her could easily be hidden behind a fancy dress with long sleeves or some makeup and so on... Nobody ever noticed anything.

Harriet shook her head - very bad idea, considering the headache -, she didn‘t want to think about that now.

„Harry, have you seen my folder?“ , Elizabeth Macmillan entered the living room.She was just getting ready for her shift.  
„Kitchen, second shelf from above.“  
„ I already looked there.“  
„Mmpf. Well, maybe on the bedside table.“  
„Nope.“  
„Then I don‘t know."  
„But you always know where everything is!“  
Harriet shrugged her shoulders. She pointed towards the table: „There is one."  
„No, that‘s the one I am using for my notes, I mean the black one.“  
„I don‘t know.“, Harriet stressed every single syllable.  
„You were the one who suddenly felt the need to rearrange our whole workroom.“ Mac was obviously getting annoyed.  
„If you started getting ready earlier than just five minutes before you need to go, you wouldn‘t be so stressed.“  
„Sweetie, what has that got to do with the subject?“  
„I am just saying - oh, forget it-.“ , Harriet turned back to her typewriter. „Maybe you forgot it at the hospital“ , she added.  
„What did you say?“ ,Mac called, she had already left the room.  
„I said that you maybe forgot the folder somewhere!“ Harriet was pretty sure Mac still hadn`t heared her but she was too tired to bother.

She got up from the chair, due to the uptight sitting the throbbing in her legs got even worse and her back was hurting now, too. When sitting down onto the sofa she couldn‘t help but hiss.

„Everything okay?“  
Harriet turned around alarmed. „I thought you were already gone.“  
Mac had raised an eyebrow. „Are you hurt?“  
„No! It‘s just - a little migraine.“  
She hated lying to her girlfriend but at the same time she also didn‘t want to explain.  
„Should I get you some painkillers?“  
„I have already taken two.“ At least this was no lie.  
„Are you sure you are ok? You normally never take any painkillers.“  
Mac started to look worried.  
„Of course I am! Now hurry or you will be late.“  
„Good.If you say so.“ There was a noticeable snippish undertone in her voice.  
She went towards Harriet and they fluttered a kiss. „See you.“  
Then she went out of the room and Harriet heard the frontdoor close.

She took a deep breath. On the table was still her typewriter with the blank page standing there like a silent reproach. Another deep breath. She knew she had to write; a part of her also wanted to, but she felt like she didn‘t even have the energy to get up from the sofa. She closed her eyes. Just for a minute or so -she told herself- but every time she opened her eyes another twenty minutes had passed.  
She bit her lip, she wouldn‘t cry now, it would be nonsense, she had no reason to. Still she was so nervous and unsettled that she felt like she couldn‘t do anything else.  
Harriet knew, the longer she would be sitting there, the harder it would get to actually do something, even if that something just involves changing clothes and going to bed.

 

 

When Elizabeth MacMillan got home from her shift, the flat was already dark. „No wonder“ she had had the third shift today which meant she had been working from 4pm to 12pm and she rarely got home before 1 or 2 am adding the time she needed for discussions, research, paperwork and also the way from her home to the hospital and back.

She quietly opened the door to their bedroom and switched on the tiny lamp on Harriet‘s vanity. If someone had told her one year ago that she herself would once be sitting on front of a vanity unpinning her hair and taking her -very little- makeup off, she would have laughed that person out of court; and when Harriet had bought that thing a few month ago Elizabeth MacMillan was everything but pleased about it, but by now she had to admit that there were at least some benefits to it.

Once she finally got into bed, the blanket-mountain next to her started moving.  
„Did I wake you up?“ she whispered.  
Harriet shook her head. „I wasn‘t asleep yet.“ She kissed her. „Mac, I am sorry, I had been a total ass today.“  
„Oh well, it wasn‘t so bad.“ She stroke a strand of hair out of Harriet‘s face. „Did you cry?“  
„No.“ Harriet truned around facing the wall again.  
„Your cheeks are wet.“  
She knew it was just a statement, a fact, but for her it felt like a blame. She hated to admit it.  
„I am tired.“ She tucked the blanket tighter around her. Her hands were shaking.  
„Harriet, sweetie, what happened?“ Mac tried to hug her but Harriet moved away even further. „Just leave me alone.“ Her voice was trembling. „Please.“ , she added quieter.  
„Should I make you some tea?“  
„I feel sick.“  
„It might help.“  
Harriet wagged her head.  
„If you don‘t want to tell me what‘s up, at least let me help you.“  
„Mac. If something had happened I would tell you, but nothing had happened. Really.“ She cleared her throat. „Things just - just feel quite wrong sometimes.“  
Mac nodded, then carefully laid her arm around her. „Is this alright for you?“ Harriet turned around. „Mmh.“ She laid her head onto Mac´s shoulder.  
„Tell me if I can do something to make you feel better, okay?“  
„Maybe I would indeed like some tea.“  
Mac smirked. „I rest my case. Earl Grey, Green Tea or Redbush Tea?“  
Harriet shrugged her shoulders. „I don´t care.“

Even though it was against her no-food-in-bed-rule (nothing is more irritating than crumbs between the sheets) Mac had ,beside two cups of tea, also brought a few biscuits.  
One and a half hours later the tea was drunk up, the biscutis eaten and Harriet was asleep on Mac´s lap.


End file.
